


is the band ready? (you make my heart do drop-spins)

by gravy_noodles



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Developing Friendships, Endgame Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, F/F, Lena Luthor Needs a Hug, Lena Luthor-centric, Slow Burn, and they were ROOMMATES, endgame was the friends we made along the way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:55:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28418730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravy_noodles/pseuds/gravy_noodles
Summary: Whoever decided that it was a good idea to do any form of physical activity, at high noon during the middle of the summer, had obviously lost their damn minds and should have been put out of their misery immediately after voicing it. This was the conclusion that Lena Luthor had come to, at twelve-thirty PM on a Wednesday afternoon at the end of July. There was nowhere to hide from the sun on the parched and crispy football field, and as she moved, she could swear that she heard the grass drying even further under her feet. If she’d just not been so damn competitive, she wouldn’t be here, trying to keep her arms steady as she spun a flag; no, she’d be in Cabo or Sardinia or Hainan, enjoying a book in the shade while listening to the ocean lap gently at the shore.But no.Her competitive ass had her practicing color guard drills, at band camp.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 11
Kudos: 37





	1. Day 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The marching band AU that absolutely nobody, not a single soul, asked for :D

Whoever decided that it was a good idea to do any form of physical activity, at high noon during the middle of the summer, had obviously lost their damn minds and should have been put out of their misery immediately after voicing it. This was the conclusion that Lena Luthor had come to, at twelve-thirty PM on a Wednesday afternoon at the end of July. There was nowhere to hide from the sun on the parched and crispy football field, and as she moved, she could swear that she heard the grass drying even further under her feet. If she’d just not been so damn _competitive_ , she wouldn’t be here, trying to keep her arms steady as she spun a flag; no, she’d be in Cabo or Sardinia or Hainan, enjoying a book in the shade while listening to the ocean lap gently at the shore.

But no. 

Her competitive ass had her practicing color guard drills, at _band camp_.

X

It started with a bet. It always started with a bet. 

“You’re so married to the robotics club; it’s like your only thing, you know?” Veronica teased, as she, Lena, and Andrea pored over their calculus homework, barreling through review packets. It was a week before finals, near the end of their Junior year, and their small study group had commandeered a large table at the back of the library. 

“It is not! I have layers, you know,” Lena scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“Like an ogre?”

“Like tiramisu, because I am a damn delight of a dessert!”

“God, you’re even alliterating; that’s how I know I’m right,” chuckled Veronica as she made a few scribbles on the problem set in front of her. Andrea coughed, though it sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Lena raised a brow.

“I will show you that I have more than one _thing_ ,” she announced, “In fact, I bet you that by the end of the summer, I will be an integral part of another club or organization besides robotics. Because I have more than just one aspect of personality.”

Veronica paused and looked up at Lena, tapping her pencil thoughtfully against her jaw. A slow smile spread across her face, and Lena felt a sinking sensation somewhat akin to dread: anything that made Veronica smile like _that_ always led to trouble.

“I’ll happily take that bet, Luthor. If I win, you owe me a bottle of Octomore and bragging rights.” 

“That’s all you’re asking?” Lena smirked, leaning over the table. “Well, then, if I win, you owe me a bottle of the Imperial Collection in that Fabergé egg, in your father’s study. _And_ you admit that I am, simply, the best.”

“Fine,” Veronica replied, sitting up straight with a mischievous look on her face, “but I choose what you take part in.”

“That works for me, I’m very adaptable,” Lena replied, leaning back and propping her feet on the table, combat boots making a dull thud against the wood. The truth was, she was quite flexible — she was a Luthor, after all; she had the skills for any type of club, and would be a very productive member. It would also look good on her college applications, not that she was all too worried about getting into colleges. The combination of her excellent academic record and her affluent family practically guaranteed her admission to whichever university she held in her sights.

“Even if it was field hockey?”

“Veronica,” Andrea interceded, “we all know that sport is not, has not been, and perhaps never will be within Lena’s purview. Plus, that’s a sure way for you to win the bet, which just wouldn’t be fair.”

“Who said anything about ‘fair’? Winning is all that matters,” Veronica responded with a predatory grin.

“While I respect that your goal is to win, it should not be to murder our poor Lena.” Andrea leaned back, crossing her arms over her body. “I propose that sports are off-limits.” At Lena’s splutter of outrage, she turned to address her friend. “Lena, cariña, you look very scary and tough, but we’ve had gym together for the last three years. Remember, before you protest, that I’ve seen how any type of ball-related activity turns out for you.”

Lena flushed. So, running wasn’t her forte, sue her. So, she might’ve just hung there when she had to do her pull-up test. So, maybe any ball that came her way had a magnetic attraction to her face. So, she might’ve collapsed after two push-ups. So, sports might not be her thing … like, at all, but that didn’t mean that she was some kind of delicate flower!

“I can handle myself with physical activity,” she grumbled.

“I’m sure you can, tigress,” Veronica smirked. Lena fought the blush in her cheeks at the flirtatiously condescending tone. “Well, since I’ve no particular wish to see you slaughtered, how about …” she trailed off, leaning back and tapping her pencil against her face again. The tapping stopped as an idea seemed to come to her:

“Marching band.”

There was a beat of silence.

“What.” 

“Come on, Luthor, you said you could take on _any_ of the school organizations and clubs. Time to put your words into actions — or do you just want to head back home and bring me that scotch now?”

Lena’s eyes narrowed. 

“It’s on, Sinclair.”

X

That’s how Lena found herself on a bus packed with band geeks, headed to some private school in the middle of nowhere, three hours outside of Metropolis. She immediately chose a seat near the back, slid her headphones over her ears, and tuned out the world. As the familiar cement and steel of the city slowly blurred into a vast expanse of countryside, she thought about how Lillian had disinterestedly given consent for her to attend band camp. No doubt she was glad to not have Lena underfoot for two and a half weeks, and though the feeling was mutual, Lena had to tamp down and pack away the yearning for her adoptive mother to give some sort of kind word or encouragement — hell, even _surprise_ would’ve done. Lena would’ve accepted any kind of reaction that let her know that she mattered.

Her seat jolted suddenly with the weight of someone heavily thumping themselves down on it. Lena could not keep her annoyance from her face as she turned from the window. She was met with an apologetic wince from a tall brunette.

“Sorry! Some of the brass up front won’t stop singing Queen, and you were the only person back here with an open seat. I hope it’s okay if I hide here?” 

“Do what you want, it’s a free country,” Lena replied, with what she hoped was a nonchalant shrug.

“Oooookay, cool … uh, thanks.” The stranger settled in against the leather of the bus seat. A few seconds of silence passed before she turned to Lena again. “You’re new, right? My name’s Sam, I’m part of the color guard.”

Lena considered Sam for a second. The girl must be going into her senior year as well; Lena vaguely recalled sharing Honors Chemistry with her in sophomore year. The name came to her, then: _Sam Arias._

“I’m Lena … uh, same.” Forget that Lena had no idea what a color guard entailed, beyond carrying flags or batons or some shit like that. She’d done some cursory research, and apart from having to run, it didn’t look too difficult. It hadn’t been a position where she’d actually have to learn an instrument, at the very least, nor one where she’d have to wear those absolutely horrendous band uniforms.

“Really? Oh awesome! Is it your first time doing guard?”

“Uhm, yeah. It is.”

“Okay! Don’t worry, I’ll show you the ropes, it’s really fun once you get the hang of it!”

“Forgive me, but what exactly is there to get the hang _of_? Isn’t it just twirling flags and prancing about?”

“Oh, my sweet summer child, there is so much to teach you,” Sam gasped. “There’s much more to guard than ‘just twirling flags and prancing!’” She became more animated, eyes widening as she shifting her full weight to properly face Lena. “It’s dance, it’s performance, and it’s pure muscle - how else are you going to toss a double in flag?” She grinned and flexed her — admittedly impressive — bicep.

Lena felt the gnawing of anxiety. Her pale arms only had enough muscle to work with gadgets and tech; there’s no way they’d be able to grow and adapt and become like Sam’s. _What the fuck is a double?_

The trepidation must have shown on her face because Sam paused her gushing about guard, dropping her voice to a gentler tone.

“If you have any questions, seriously, let me know. It can be kinda tough at first, but I promise you, it really _is_ fun.”

The anxiety lessened somewhat: Lena couldn’t detect anything to suggest that Sam was lying or having a laugh at her expense, and if color guard was going to be something different from what she’d thought it was, it would be a boon to have someone more experienced to help her adjust. Fuck knows she’ll need it.

“I’ll hold you to that, Sam,” Lena replied, letting a small smile out. Sam returned her smile with another wide grin of her own, before offering to answer any questions that Lena might have.

The rest of the bus ride passed in a blur after that, with the conversation between Lena and Sam moving from color guard information and into more casual territory. By the time the bus arrived at the private school, Lena found herself breathing a little easier and hoping that she’d just made a new friend. 

X

“Aw, man, we’re not roomies!” Sam exclaimed, standing in front of the room assignments posted in the main hall. She spun around, hefting her duffel bag. “They’ve put me with Nia. She’s a sophomore in the flute section,” she added, catching Lena’s blank stare.

“And who’ve they put me with?” Lena craned her neck to try to see the list that was hiding just past the taller girl’s shoulder.

“Well, Lena Luthor, seems that they’ve paired you up with Kara Danvers — she’s one of the trumpets, and a senior like us. It should be pretty chill; she’s a really cool person,” Sam replied as she stopped by the check-in table, grabbing two thick folders from a pile and leaving Lena to wonder just what in the hell ‘one of the trumpets’ meant.

 _Surely, she’s part of the trumpet section in the band,_ Lena mused absently, _not that there’s a trumpet named Kara Danvers._

_… Christ, Lena. Get a grip._

Sam handed one of the folders to Lena, who took it and held it close to her chest with her right arm. Thick folders meant many papers, and many papers in a thick folder seemed like they would be important, so Lena wouldn’t risk losing them.

“Don’t be intimidated by the size of the folder. The majority of what’s in there will be just drill formations and dots for our show this year,” Sam assured Lena.

“I’m going to pretend that I know what that last part means,” Lena joked.

“Oh, sorry! Drill formations and dots are both, basically, where we’re supposed to go at a certain point in the music, and what shapes we’re supposed to make. It’s kind of like a Monet: when it’s broken down and up close like that, the show doesn’t look like much. But I promise you,” Sam grinned, “when it comes together, it looks _awesome_.”

“Sounds grand.” The duo turned and headed across the hallway to the stairs leading to the girl’s floor. “Will I need this with me today?” Lena jiggled the folder against her torso.

“Nah,” the taller girl replied, “today’s all about settling in. You _will_ need it tomorrow, so definitely find somewhere safe but accessible to put your folder.”

“What do we do once we’re ‘settled in?’” Lena asked, holding her folder a little looser.

“Well, first there’s ice breakers with the whole band, and then we’ll split off into our sections for more ice breakers — though for guard, we’re going to get you spinning as soon as possible!”

Lena groaned at the mention of awkward get-to-know-yous. She’d cultivated a perfectly untouchable image and persona throughout high school, and silly little games played to introduce people were, in her opinion, just beating about the bush. Why couldn’t people just say their names and what they wanted from a person? Everyone always wanted something from everyone else: sometimes it was as harmless as wanting to get to know a person, or friendship. At other times, in Lena’s experience, it was as pointed and purposeful as gaining information for a competitive edge, or getting a beneficial connection in order to achieve an end.

 _Why bother with the frilly edges; just cut to the meat of the matter_.

“I don’t suppose there’s any way to get out of doing ice breakers, is there?” Lena asked dryly, knowing the answer to her question but still holding onto a small sliver of hope.

“Not unless you’re vomiting, unconscious, or spurting blood, no,” Sam chuckled. Lena couldn’t tell if she was serious or kidding. The pair stopped in front of a wooden door with a sign on it stating: KD/LL.

“This is your stop, Lena. I’ll swing by in like, ten, and we can go down to the green together? Don’t want you getting lost on the first day!” Sam grinned as she walked away.

“Sure?” Lena replied before opening the door. 

Her roommate for the next couple of weeks wasn’t there yet, and for that, Lena was thankful. The quiet stillness of the space offered her a brief respite from her swirling thoughts. The newness of her situation spun in her mind, and she stepped into the room, trying to gather herself within the four walls. There were two twin beds opposite each other, with a desk between them under a window on the farthest wall. In the far left corner stood a worn, wooden chest of drawers. Coming further into the room, there was another desk at the end of the bed to her left, and Lena decided that that would be her hers; it was more shielded from the door, so she’d have a better vantage point on anyone coming in and out of the room.

Luthors were strategic, after all.

Lena staked her claim by slapping the thick folder down on the edge of the desk. She made quick work of getting her side of the room set up, putting her sheets on the bed with swift precision. After she finished stowing her clothes in the drawers in the desk, slapped sunscreen on her arms, neck, and face, and made ready to leave. Putting confidence into her stride — and hopefully, herself — she marched to the door, where she promptly collided with what felt like a wall.

Lena was, quite literally, knocked onto her ass. Her flailing arm caught the folder on the edge of the desk, sending it and it’s myriad papers flying.

“Holy shit, what the fuck, ow —”

“Whoamygosh, I’m so sorry are you okay —” Both voices spoke over each other in a garbled, chaotic jumble. Lena looked up, glaring and ready to lay into whoever had blocked her path and sent her into the floor’s hard embrace. Her words died on her tongue as she recognized that flash of blonde hair — Kara Danvers. 

She didn’t remember her being so tall. Or tan. Or obviously fit. _Fuck._ Lena was definitely starting to blush, a warmth spreading up her neck. Kara threw down her bag and, more gently, her trumpet case — that was a trumpet case, right? — and immediately crouched on the floor, grabbing at the loose papers that had spilled from Lena’s folder.

“Holy frijoles, I am so sorry! Sometimes I swear I’m a better wall than a window, are you alright?” 

Lena gave herself a shake, hoping to jolt her brain into action.

“Uhm, yeah … think I’m just suffering from fractured pride,” she joked, hoping she didn’t sound as shaken as she felt. Kara was wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves torn off, exposing more tanned skin and arms that Lena _knew_ would be rock-solid, but that she still wanted to grip, just to make sure. 

_For science._

“Oh, well, I hear they have medicine for that,” Kara replied, throwing Lena a disarming smile and catching her eyes from under thick-rimmed glasses. _Goddamn, warn a girl,_ Lena thought. Before she could utter her reply, the blonde was speaking again: “I’m Kara, by the way, your roommate, I guess?”

“Yes, yeah, I’m Lena. Guess we’ll be stuck together, huh?” The shock of their crash faded as she forced her brain to make words. Snapping back into the present, Lena began scrambling to grab her papers as well; she couldn’t let Kara do all the work. Besides, focusing on cleaning up the mess would help distract her from the hypnotic movement of Kara’s arms, and the blush creeping up into her own pale cheeks. 

“I guess that’s one way of putting it!” Kara laughed, a bright explosion of mirth. “Don’t worry, I won’t practice trumpet in our room, I promise.”

“I appreciate that, and I promise I won’t practice here, either,” Lena chuckled, tucking her papers back into her folder. She turned away from Kara to place her folder on top of her bed. It was the safer location. Turning back, she caught Kara staring at her with curiosity.

“What do you play?” Kara asked, looking behind Lena, probably for an instrument.

“Oh no, I don’t play anything; I’ve just joined the color guard,” Lena replied, twisting her fingers behind her back. She wasn’t sure why she felt suddenly nervous: her research showed that color guard was an integral part of any marching band, so admitting that she was a part of it to a total stranger shouldn’t make her feel suddenly hyper aware of herself. Kara grinned at her, and was about to reply when she was cut off by three boisterous people entering the room. Lena recognized James Olsen, Winn Schott and Kara’s sister, Alex. 

“KD!” James exclaimed, engulfing Kara in a huge hug.

“James!” she roared back, returning the embrace. “Winn! It’s been too long,” she continued, throwing her hand over her forehead in an overly dramatic imitation of a swoon.

“I was bereft, parted from you for too many seasons,” Winn returned, clutching at her hands before the two dissolved into laughter.

“...you were all sitting together on the bus, like, twenty minutes ago,” snorted Alex, a tall girl with uneven red hair. She and Lena had shared AP Physics last year, but had never spoken. Alex was an intimidating presence who commanded respect, and Lena had gotten the vibe that she didn’t quite like her. _One more casualty of my last name_ , Lena remembered lamenting before losing herself in kinematics and linear momentum.

_Wait, didn’t she graduate last year?_

Alex noticed Lena and crossed her arms, giving her a nod of acknowledgment.

“Luthor.”

“Danvers.”

“What’re you doing here?” The short question was carefully neutral. 

“Alex, Lena’s joined the color guard, isn’t that great?” Kara excitedly replied, before Lena could ask Alex the same question. James and Winn shared a look, which was not lost on Lena. Their silent communication brought her earlier nerves back, and she began twisting her fingers again, if only to move and dispel the tangling in her gut.

Alex’s only reply was to raise her eyebrows at Lena and give a small nod. She turned back to Kara. “Let’s get going, J’onzz wants you all down on the soccer green for ice breakers.” Internally, Lena shuddered, remembering suddenly that _those_ were imminent. 

“Heard! Lena, wanna come with us?” Kara asked, turning to her roommate. Lena gave a small smile and a shake of her head.

“I already said I’d go down with my friend, but I’m sure I’ll see you there.” 

“Okay, cool, see you!” The foursome disappeared through the door, and once more silence reigned. Lena let out a breath, deflating with relief. Suddenly, Kara’s head popped back around the corner.

“It was really nice to like, finally meet you, by the way,” she stated, smiling like a perfect spring morning. In a blink, she was gone again, but something seemed to have lifted within Lena.

Maybe band camp wouldn’t be so bad.

X

The ice breakers were, for lack of a better word, repetitious and dull. People who shared that common thing would then run around, and whoever didn’t find a spot in a different part of the circle had to stand in the center. It was a game much like ‘Never Have I Ever,’ but stupid. _What would anyone even have in common with a Luthor?_

Having abysmal sprinting skills, Lena soon found herself in the middle of the circle. She clenched her jaw and surveyed the people surrounding her, trying to think of something, anything, that she might have in common with them. She felt like she was under a spotlight, and it took all of her self-control not to twist her fingers in front of everyone. Some looks were curious, some were disinterested, and some were downright mean. Lena wasn’t an idiot: she knew the reputation her family had. It just sometimes sucked to be reminded of it. 

Finally, she caught Sam’s eye, and relaxed. _A friendly face._ Sam gave a small wave and a grin, and an idea for what to call out struck Lena. When she called out that she’d taken AP World, she was delighted to see the entire circle break down into chaos of students rushing around, trying to speed into a new spot before she could take it. No such luck for some poor twerp, and shortly after her turn, the game came to an end.

Afterward, Lena followed Sam down a sloping walkway to a gigantic gymnasium. Sam led her into a massive, empty indoor basketball court. The late July evening light filtered through windows, casting a golden glow about the area. The only noise Lena could hear was the sound of her sneakers squeaking on the floor. Nobody else seemed to be around.

“Okay, first you’re going to have to take your shoes off. We will be doing across-the-floors at some point and trust me, it’s easier in bare feet,” Sam stated, kicking off her own flip-flops and depositing them near the fold-in bleachers. 

Once shoeless, Sam began taking Lena through a round of stretches as other members of the guard began to file in, talking amongst themselves. Lena recognized Winn from earlier, along with a couple of other faces. Their coach — instructor? Majorette? Fearless leader? — strode in, a second person behind her. She blew on a whistle in three short bursts, and the idle chatter ceased. _Really? A whistle?_

Once the leader was sure she had everyone’s attention, she addressed the students in front of her. 

“Hi all, welcome to color guard! I’m very happy to see so many familiar and new faces! We’ve got a lot to cover so I’ll keep this short. I’m M’gann M'orzz, and I will be coaching you through this season of marching as a color guard.” After a brief round of introductions, she explained across-the-floors. 

“First, we’re going to introduce you to jazz runs. These are the most basic building blocks of the dancing and movement we do in guard, for those of you who are new. You will be doing jazz runs … across the floor. For parameters, you will do these runs from this net,” she gestured at the basketball hoop suspended from the ceiling, “to that net.” Her arm extended gracefully toward a similar hoop at the other end of the gym.

 _Seems simple enough_ , Lena thought. 

Her optimism was misplaced.

While the M’gann’s demonstrations looked easy to follow and replicate, Lena soon found that the reality of it was more difficult than she’d anticipated.

Jazz runs meant literally changing the way she walked. As opposed to the regular step sequence of heel-arch-ball, the steps reversed: first, the ball of her foot had to touch the ground, moving her weight through her arch and finally into her heel. She also had to extend her arms in opposition with her fully extended legs, a simple task that nonetheless bound her mind with twine and tripped her up, and she toppled after two steps. Lena winced as the linoleum floor broke her fall, burning her exposed elbows and knees. 

Lena _had_ poise. Lillian had made sure to drum proper posture and moving with elegance into her from a young age, and as such, Lena did not find keeping her back straight to be an issue; however, trying to keep time, adjusting the sequence of weight-bearing, and remembering what do to do with her arms seemed to be too much for her brain to handle. Staring at the blasted basketball hoop across the room, she ground her teeth together and willed herself not to cry, even as the burn of tears ached behind her eyes. _Luthors do not cry._

How was it that she could build a PC in record time, but can’t even get her legs to just _fucking_ do what she asked? 

Breathing slowly through her nose and glaring at the hoop, Lena picked herself up and resumed her attempts at jazz runs. She had a couple more falls and definitely skinned her feet on the floor, but by the fifth round, she found it slightly easier to make her feet touch down toes-first. By the sixth, she was moving and keeping time adequately. After the tenth run across the gymnasium floor, their instructor blew her whistle to end the exercise.

The larger group split into smaller groups, with more experienced members going to practice with flags and weapons, and the newer members going to flags with M’gann to learn the basic drills. 

“Alright, newbies! You’re here to learn how to spin and toss a flag, which is what we’ll be working on for the next hour. These basics will be…” Lena listened as M’gann took them through the techniques for spinning the flag on her left and right sides. The weighted metal pole made itself known in the way her forearms and shoulders began burning after her fifth spin. It felt awkward and wrong, and she was going too slowly. 

After thirty repetitions of spinning - 'drop-spins' was the technical name - M’gann had them start carving figure eights with the flags, first above their heads and then below their waists. The figure eights, or 'carves,' were done to an eight-count rhythm, wherein the flag had to be in a certain position by a certain count. The fire in Lena’s shoulders spread into her back as she tried to stay on top of the timing, and more than once she accidentally caught herself in the gut with the pommel-end of her flag. She wheezed each time as nausea flooded through her, but swallowed hard against it and kept moving. A minute later, M’gann took pity on the newcomers.

“Alright, take a break! We’ll go over more basics tomorrow, and perhaps even get you tossing the flag. For now, grab some water and take five. We’ll spend the rest of our session learning the choreography for the first part.”

 _Excuse me, the_ what _?_

Rolling her shoulders to try and assuage the burning, Lena walked stiffly over to Sam, who was gulping from a water bottle. Lena didn’t have one, but there was a water fountain nearby. She indicated it to the veteran guard member, who nodded and joined her on the way over.

“Hey Lena! How’s it going so far?” Sam grinned.

“There’s more to this than I first thought,” Lena replied diplomatically before taking a pull of sweet, cold water. “Was it this hard for you, when you started?”

“Oh for sure, yeah,” Sam laughed. “I actually smacked myself in the face on my very first drop-spin, and had to miss the first practice because my nose wouldn’t stop bleeding.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah, it hurt a lot and I was _that girl_ for like, a day. Then, Winn released his flag a little too early and cracked the window of the door,” Sam added, nodding to the entryway.

“Hey!” came an indignant exclamation. “That flag was weighted totally weird, it coulda happened to anyone!” Winn strode over, his voice serious but his eyes twinkling. 

“Sure, but only _you_ could get that amount of distance and force,” teased Sam. “That’s why you get all the good solo tosses!”

Winn laughed good-naturedly. He turned to face Lena.

“Hi, I’m Winn. You might know me from that one time in Kara’s room, and,” he added, cocking his head thoughtfully, “probably from CompSci.” 

Lena stared for a second, trying to place him. _Oh!_

“Winn Schott! You created that algorithm that can identify people even if they’re wearing masks, right? That was a really excellent piece of programming,” she said before bending over to take another sip of water.

“Says the girl who found a way to optimize shared spectrum so that lower income students had access to online learning resources!”

“It was nothing, I really only had to take the frequencies already being used and just expand on them,” Lena demurred, flushing at the unexpected praise from, essentially, a stranger.

“It was _awesome_ ,” Winn breathed. 

Sam cleared her throat. “Okay, you’re both huge nerds and I’m really glad that you’ve truly met, but we should get back. The choreo isn’t going to learn itself, and they’ve brought on that one guy who wants to put forty-fives into, like, everything.”

“What’re forty-fives?” Lena asked.

“Only the toss that keeps EMTs employed,” Winn snarked, making Sam snort with laughter.

“We’ll tell you when you’re older, Li’l Lena,” she responded. Lena knew it was teasing, but it lacked the casual malice that she was used to. It made her feel uncomfortable but paradoxically more at ease: it felt as though, for one of the first times, she didn’t have to second guess the intentions behind words or actions. At least, with Sam and Winn. They both seemed like genuine people, unafraid to express how they felt but also seeking only to uplift those around them. However…

“I _refuse_ to be called that.”

“Tough,” came the songlike reply from her … yes, from her friend.

X

If she thought jazz runs were hard, trying to learn the choreography was worse. By the time they finished, Lena was so frustrated with herself and her lack of coordination that tears once again burnt against her eyes, making them hot and scratchy. Her jaw could have created diamonds with how hard she’d clenched it for the last hour and a half, trying to keep her composure even as she fumbled through dance moves and flag work that seemed to come naturally to other members.

 _God, I should just bring Veronica the Octomore now. Why the_ fuck _did I think that I could do this?_ The mantra played over and over in her mind, each time sounding more and more like Lillian’s voice than her own thoughts _._

When the first practice ended, Lena took her time in rolling up her flag, and hung back from the group of color guard. Part of it was that her aching, blistered feet slowed her hobbling steps, but the majority of it was the dark cloud that hung heavy over her head. She’d grown up with perfection as an expectation, and in those last few hours she had decimated her perception of herself as capable of rising to any challenge. She was so wrapped up in her miserable shroud that she didn’t notice Sam fall in step with her. Sam tapped her rolled-up flag against Lena’s to get her attention.

“What’s up? You look down.”

“Nothing, just thinking …” Lena mumbled, not wanting to tell her new friend that she felt pathetic for not grasping color guard like she did chemistry. Sam didn’t move on, and instead silently walked with her. After a few moments of quietness, the taller girl spoke.

“Color guard isn’t easy.”

Lena turned to look at Sam, brow wrinkling. _Is this where she tells me to go home?_ she wondered. Sam returned her look, seriousness in her eyes. She continued:

“A lot of people think band camp and color guard are jokes, or like something out of _American Pie_ , but it’s difficult. Being in guard, you have to be able to run, throw, dance, spin, and act across an entire football field. The _band_ doesn’t even have to do what we have to do,” Sam gestured in the vague direction of the dorm buildings, where the rest of the marchers were undoubtedly preparing for the rest of their evening. “It’s _hard_ , Lena, and I think you understand that.”

“I do, Sam.” Lena braced herself for Sam’s response, steeling herself to be told to pack up and go home, perhaps even be ridiculed, though she doubted that Sam would be that cruel.

“I know.” Her new friend was silent for a beat, and then: “If you want to get better, you have to be all-in. Color guard is no joke, and the effort you put into it will show and pay off.”

“What’re you saying?” Lena asked, needing confirmation. If Sam was saying what she thought, no, _hoped_ she was saying … 

“I’m saying, don’t give up. This will all come to you, if you keep at it. I saw you get up during the across-the-floors,” Sam added. _Oh lord, why_ , Lena inwardly groaned. “Keep getting up. I’ll help you with flag work and the moves, I said it earlier and I meant it.”

“Seriously?”

“Of course! Want to start tonight, after dinner? We’ll have like, an hour of free time before lights out.”

Lena wanted nothing more than to collapse on her bed, have the good cry that had been storming inside of her, and sleep. However, Sam’s offer was generous and it would behoove her to put more time into learning how to not be an awkward being made of limbs and bruises. 

“Thanks, Sam, that sounds grand. Where should we do this?”

“I’ll take you to the courtyard. It’s out of the way but also really nice.” 

“Alright, lead the way,” Lena responded, a small smile coming to her face.

“Slow your roll, Li’l Lena! We’ve got to get some dinner, first. I don’t know about you, but I’m absolutely _starving_.” 

In fairness, Lena couldn’t tell which was the louder grumble: her, at her new nickname, or her stomach.

They made their way to the cafeteria, which was very conveniently located on the ground floor of the dorms. The cafeteria was bustling with band kids eating their dinners and chattering excitedly. Sam guided Lena to the food counters, and they swiftly grabbed their meals. Once they found an empty table, they sat and ate and talked more about techniques for flag work — Lena asking question upon question, and Sam answering as best she could while also chowing down on food that was pretty good for being, essentially, cafeteria fare. 

After their meal, the two girls placed their empty dishes on a conveyor belt, which led back to the dishwashing area of the cafeteria. Sam then led Lena to the courtyard, passing only briefly through the dorm building. The space in question was on the other side, closer to the woods that surrounded the area. No fence separated the campus from the woods, but the line was demarcated where the manicured lawns, vibrant flowers, and conscientiously planted trees gave way to the wilds of the countryside. Near a Japanese maple, Sam set down her flag.

“This is where I come, during camp, when I want to work on a set of moves or techniques that frustrate me,” Sam revealed, gesturing to the maple.

“It seems like it’s a very calm place to do that,” Lena nodded.

“Yeah, every time I feel like tossing my flag into the woods, it’s nice to sit down and just, like, take it all in.” Sam looked at Lena. “Okay, put your flag down. We’re going to stretch for a minute before we do anything else. I don’t know about you, but I’m definitely starting to get stiff.”

Once they finished stretching, Sam took Lena through the flag exercises that’d been introduced earlier in the evening. She only did two rounds of each exercise before focusing on the choreography, showing Lena how to move the flag in conjunction with her feet, and providing a beat for her. 

Sam focused on doing the movements with the right technique, and on the footwork for the choreography. Lena found that she was able to ask more questions with Sam, and that she would often get a very logical answer that explained _why_ she had to grip the flag at a certain place rather than another place, or shift her body weight a certain way. Being able to go over the smaller details helped her put the larger pictures together. As a result, it was a little easier to go through and reinforce what she’d tried to learn earlier. After a while, however, she began to hit a wall. Frustrated at not being able to make the first proper flag toss, she threw her flag down.

“I’m never going to get this, Sam!” She seethed, glaring at the flag as though she could will it to just fucking cooperate.

“You will! It's only the first day, don't be so hard on yourself.” her friend responded supportively. “You'll get this, okay? You will. Why don’t we take a moment to just sit and take a break?”

“Gladly.” Lena practically spat the word, but she wasn’t angry with Sam. No, she was angry with herself for both failing at perfection, and for having the expectation of flawlessness in the first place. She thumped down onto the earth. Her tired and aching feet sung sweet praises of relief. Looking over, she noticed that Sam had taken her shoes off and was curling her toes against the grass. 

“After a day of marching and dancing, this feels really, really nice. You should try it!” Sam said, catching her gaze and wiggling her feet.

 _Eh, why the fuck not._ Lena slipped her shoes off too, and closed her eyes at the sensation of the cool grass against her hot feet. It almost tickled, but it felt good to soothe her aching arches against the soft ground.

“Sam Arias, you are absolutely correct. This is divine,” she smiled, mirroring her friend and gripping blades of grass with her toes. They chatted for a few minutes, taking in the steadily darkening sky and the muggy cool of the approaching summer night. 

At one point, movement caught Lena’s eye, and she turned, trying to make out what she was seeing. It seemed to be a group of people, heading towards the woods.

“Who’re they?” she asked Sam. 

Peering beyond Lena, Sam let out a small sigh. “That’d be the brass, sneaking out to party. They think they’re being subtle, but it’s more of an open secret than anything.”

“Party?”

“It’s nothing special, just a fire pit and a bunch of shitty beer. Winn goes sometimes, but that’s because he’s friends with a bunch of the brass.” Sam's words made Lena wonder: did Kara go to those parties? _She is a trumpet, a trumpet is a brass instrument; she is friends with Winn, Winn goes to those, ergo …_

“Sounds as if you’re speaking from experience,” Lena commented instead, looking over at Sam.

“I went to a couple when I started, but it’s lost its appeal to me over the many years,” Sam grinned sardonically. “I guess, in my very old age, I’ve become boring.”

“We’re the same age,” Lena responded, bunching her eyebrows together and laughing.

“Nah, I’m pretty much a grandma these days,” Sam chuckled. “I used to date someone who went to those parties, but they graduated and we broke up. There wasn’t really any point to going to them afterwards, since I wasn’t really close with people.” She looked away from Lena, towards the forest where a very, very faint orange glow could now be seen. 

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Lena responded seriously. 

Sam returned her gaze to Lena’s, and gave a small smile. “It’s alright, I sometimes still go with Winn, but it’s very rare. They can be pretty interesting, from a people-watching perspective.”

“Oh yeah? Are you secretly working on an anthropological study?”

Sam hummed, her small smile now a full grin. “Absolutely! I am a respected and prolific scholar in the field of _brassus idioticus_ ,” she said, affecting a stuffy accent. “My publications have seized the academic world by storm, and provide deep analysis into the precise effects of these gatherings.” 

Lena loosed a laugh, loud and unbridled, that echoed through the courtyard. She found that she didn’t much care; Sam was hilarious. Catching her breath, she responded: “Well, professor, I truly look forward to your coming documentary chronicling these observations.”

Sam laughed with her. As their mirth died down to the embers of chuckles, she grabbed the flag again.

“Alright, Li’l Lena,” she said, ignoring Lena’s groan of protest at the name. “Let’s do one more go through what we learned today, and then it’s bedtime. Tomorrow’s going to be much more intense, and trust me when I tell you: you’re going to need this sleep.”

Grabbing her flag, Lena used it to pull herself to her feet. She set herself in the beginning position, with her flag held down against the metal pole in one hand while the other gripped the pole at its midpoint.

“Let’s do this,” she grinned over at Sam.

X

Kara wasn’t in the dorm when Lena returned. She supposed it was because she was out with the brass partying, but the logical part of her brain balked at making an assumption based off of what she’d been told, rather than what she observed. Resolving not to dwell on it, she prepared for bed. She brushed her teeth and bathed. The shower spray on her feet burned, and after drying off she applied band-aids to the blisters and raw areas. Back in the room, she opened the window to let in the cooler air and the white noise of the summer cicadas and crickets. 

_Well, that’s half a day down. Only …_ Lena checked her phone. _Only thirteen and a half more to go._

Exhaling, she put her phone on its charger and placed it face-down on top of the desk she’d designated as hers. Turning, she noted that, at some point, Kara had returned to the room and unpacked. In direct opposition to Lena’s neat and orderly side of the room, Kara’s side looked … well, ‘messy’ was the first word that came to Lena’s mind, but also comfortable.

Kara’s trumpet case was open at the foot of her bed, the instrument in question gleaming silver in the soft gold of the dorm lamps. The bed itself had drill papers and sheet music strewn across the haphazard sky-blue sheets. From her cursory glance, Lena could see pencil markings littering the music.

 _S_ _eems the brass was busy_ , she mused.

There was an extra pillow, and on top of it the sleeveless shirt Kara wore earlier in the day. A couple of books, a notebook, and a framed photo were arranged on her desk with absolutely no regard for feng shui; Kara must have either unpacked in a hurry, or simply put her things on any available surface. It was only on her side of the room though, Lena noted as she slipped under her sheets and turned off her lamp.

 _Who is_ Kara _, anyway?_ Lena wondered, staring into the dark of the ceiling. Her memories of Kara from school weren’t exactly personal. She’d seen Kara helping freshmen find classes, and knew from in-class debates that the blonde could support her arguments and hold her own. Obviously, she was friendly, musical, and intelligent. Whenever Lena had seen her at school, Kara had always been surrounded by people. She was often smiling, or laughing, and it seemed to Lena that Kara exuded friendliness, and a warmth that Lena yearned to draw closer to and bask within.

Lena knew herself well enough to admit that perhaps she had a slight crush on Kara at school, even though they’d never really interacted. Perhaps band camp was as good a time as any to get to know Kara Danvers.

She smiled softly at the prospect, and carried the hopeful thought into her dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Diolch yn fawr, Melui, for the edits and encouragement :)   
> Thoughts?


	2. Day 2

An unnatural grating noise, incessant and loud, yanked Lena out of a particularly pleasant dream: almost immediately, like sand caught in the tide, the dream slipped away. She could only recall flashes of strong arms and a warm presence enfolding her in an embrace that felt like the unique joys of every season, rolled into one.

“Holy fuck, what the fuck is that?” she gasped as she waited for her brain to fully enter the waking realm. The lump in Kara’s bed groaned something incoherent, seemed to feel it was a justified response, and made no more movement. Meanwhile, the noise kept blaring. 

Trying to locate the source, she pushed herself up onto her elbows and scanned the room. Lena’s eyes were drawn to the only light in the dark room: a phone on the floor by Kara’s bed, lighting up during each iteration of the noise. With a grumble of distress, she flopped back down onto her bed, grabbed the edge of her pillow, and turned over, pressing the pillow against her ears to try and drown out the jarring sound.

It stopped after a minute, and Lena let the pillow flop back. The silence was heaven, but too brief. As Kara got up and started moving around, Lena tried to ignore the sounds of Kara getting ready; the sleepy shuffling of feet on the ground, the clunk of the drawers opening and closing, and the low humming as Kara moved around the room. From Kara’s earphones came tinny music, garbled and staticky.  _ It’s as if she’s  _ trying _ to make as much noise as humanly possible _ , Lena thought, gritting her teeth as the door opened and shut loudly. After Kara’s exit, the stillness of the early morning washed back over the room, and Lena felt some of her edge soften as she let herself sink into drowsiness and then sweet, silent sleep.

At least, that’s what she tried to do. 

After tossing and turning for what felt like the fiftieth time, Lena gave up. With a groan that came from the very depths of her being, she resigned herself to her fate. She was awake, wide awake, and sleep was just a memory.

“Stupid fucking alarm,” she grumbled before getting out of bed to begin getting ready. Veronica and Andrea were probably having brunch by now, somewhere on the Mediterranean. Lena had meant to be with them, on a two-week cruise, until she and Veronica made their bet.  _ Alas. _ She fired off a text to their groupchat before leaving the room to brush her teeth.

**_Lena:_ ** _ Guess who’s fucking up at the asscrack of dawn. _

When she returned, she saw that Veronica had sent her a photo. In it, she and Andrea were reclining in bikinis beside a pool, with two flutes of orange juice - definitely mimosas. The caption read:

**_Ronnie:_ ** _ Sucks to suck, Luthor! xx from Monaco _

**_Ronnie:_ ** _ PS, if it’s already too much for you, you can drop the Octomore off at mine. I told the help that you might drop by. _

Lena felt a new determination flood her. She knew not to expect sympathy, but her friend’s insistence that she would lose sparked her competitive side. No way in  _ hell _ she’d let Veronica have the satisfaction of winning!

**_Lena:_ ** _ Did you not let them know that I’ll be by for the egg? I’m winning this, Sinclair. _

**_Ronnie:_ ** _ Sure you are, tigress ;) _

X

Neither Sam nor Lena, it seemed, were morning people. When they met in the cafeteria, Lena grunted to Sam over her cup of coffee, and received a similar response. The two dug into their breakfasts, and Lena began memorizing the schedule for the coming days. It was a point of pride for her to know where she needed to be, and when. Committing the schedule to memory would enable her to focus her energies on other, more worthwhile endeavors -  _ for example, not sucking at doing guard _ , she snarked inwardly. Her shoulders responded to her thought with a groaning ache. Gritting her teeth against the sensation, Lena turned her full attention to the timetable in front of her:

Morning

8:00am Reveille

8:30am Yoga

9:00-10:30am Marching Fundamentals

10:30-12:00pm AM Sectionals

— LUNCH —

Afternoon.

1:30-3:30pm PM Sectionals

3:45-5:15pm Full Band  


— DINNER —

Evening.

6:30-8:30pm Full Band Drill

8:30-10pm Free time

10pm LIGHTS OUT FOR ALL STUDENTS

A couple of minutes after Sam sat down, Brainy joined them. 

“Lena, Brainy. Brainy, Lena,” Sam introduced succinctly, indicating Lena with her thumb and Brainy with the same hand’s index finger. “Drum major. Color guard, flag line.” 

Brainy nodded. “Greetings and salutations,” was all he said before digging in. The table was silent, two thirds of its occupants still booting their systems up. Once Brainy finished his food, he stood and gathered his plate and utensils. “I look forward to working with you both on the field today. We convene at oh-eight hundred.” 

Lena nodded her acknowledgment, while Sam gave her own hum of agreement into her own mug of coffee. The two finished their breakfasts not long after Brainy left and made their way to a football field that ran parallel to the gym from yesterday. 

Reveille was not a bugle call, as Lena had thought it would be, but it was what brought the entire band, some still bleary-eyed, to the football field at 8:00 AM. Her mood improved by coffee, Lena followed Sam to the other color guard members, trying to ignore how the morning dew seeped through her sneakers and socks, making her feet just soggy enough to be uncomfortable. 

“Good morning, marching band!” came a friendly voice over the loudspeakers. Lena turned to look for the source, and saw the band director, J’onn J’onzz, standing near a scissor lift with M’gann, Alex Danvers, and a few other adults. She presumed that they were sectional instructors, and concluded that  _ that was _ what Alex was doing at band camp. Further confirming her suspicions were the drumsticks in the elder Danvers’ left hand.

“We’ve got a great season ahead of us, and I’m glad to see some new faces here!” J’onzz continued.  _ Do they share a script or something?  _ Lena wondered, remembering M’gann’s words from the other day. “Thank you all for arriving on time, and I will thank you in advance for showing that same promptness throughout the course of this camp and this season.” He went on to describe the show that they would put on, and spent time talking about the narrative. Lena yawned, exhausted by her unplanned early start, and tried to pay attention. She appreciated art forms, and felt that music did indeed tell a story. Previously, marching band had always seemed to be just people playing on a field while moving; learning that there was a whole story behind the show was fascinating.

When he finished, J’onzz clapped his hands. “Now, before we begin, we have to properly warm up. Marching is physically taxing, and to minimize any risk of injury, warming up your bodies is imperative, as is staying hydrated.” With that, he introduced M’gann. The color guard instructor then led everyone through yoga stretching for a half hour.

From her forward fold, Lena could see her roommate’s blonde ponytail. The earlier morning still stuck in her mind, and she felt annoyance flare in her chest again. _That_ fucking _alarm._ Throughout the rest of their yoga warm-up, Lena let her mind focus on what she would say to Kara, planning her argument that she should set her alarm for a more reasonable time, or at least make sure it was quieter, as well as any rebuttals she may have to make. 

At 9:00 AM, from a scissor lift, Mr. J’onzz directed the band into a formation in the shape of a rectangle. He moved the woodwinds to the front of the block, followed by the brass, then the color guard, and finally the drumline. 

“The goal today is to teach you how to march in formation,” he addressed the block in front of him. “We’re going to start you off with atten-hut and marking time and forward marching, then we’ll add instruments in so that you can practice the ‘band, horns up’ snap.” 

Atten-hut was just coming to attention, and marking time was … well, it was easy. All Lena had to do was move her knees to the beat of the metronome on the loudspeakers, starting with her left knee. Within seconds, she put it together and moved accordingly.

Marching, it turned out, was just very,  _ very  _ precise walking. Contrary to jazz runs, Lena found that she was articulating the heel-ball-toe movement.  _ How many ways are there to walk?  _ Lena wondered, as she moved forward for eight counts. It was easier to master, though, and matching her steps to the loud metronome flowed better than it had the day before. 

After a couple of marches up and down the football field, J’onn had everyone grab their instrument and led them through the signals for ‘band, parade rest,’ the ‘atten-hut,’ and the ‘band, horns up’ command. Sam showed Lena how to ‘strip,’ or hold the silk tight against the pole of her flag. The first commands were easy to decipher: in ‘parade rest,’ Lena’s feet were a shoulder width apart while her left hand crossed behind her back and her right gripped the flag at the tape where the pole met the silk. In ‘atten-hut,’ she merely had to bring her feet together and hold the flag up so that her right hand was eye level.  _ But, how in the hell does ‘horns up’ work without a horn? _

“Our horns up is different from theirs: when Brainy gives us the command, we have to lift the flags up, so our bottom hand is just above our belly buttons and the top is above our head. When we get a ‘band, horns up,’ we let the silk go.” Sam advised, demonstrating what to do for Lena as they walked back into formation. “This is really only for when we’re marching onto the field; when we set for the show, we’ll just have our flags in the prep position for the first move of the choreo.” 

J’onzz explained why they were practicing something so basic: “The idea is to snap your instruments up. We want this to be clean: no dawdling, no slow-mo. If you’re worried about your mouthpiece coming out, make sure it is _ in there  _ before you take the field. It’s one of the first impressions we make as a unit, so while it’s a simple enough move, it’s deeply important in the overall cohesiveness of our show.” 

Brainy ascended the scissor lift, and led the command. Clapping, he commanded: “Band! Atten-HUT!” It impressed Lena, how uniformly the band snapped to attention. The one-ness of the motion was crisp and sharp, and Lena felt her breath catch a little bit in awe.

J’onzz had the band go through ‘band, horns up’ several times. Lena’s shoulders, stiff from the other day, protested loudly each time she snapped to position. She could’ve sworn she heard her joints creaking a little bit when J’onzz dismissed the band for sectionals.

X

Much to Lena’s dismay, the color guard sectional began with -  _ for fuck’s sake _ \- exercise. M’gann made them run a couple laps around the gymnasium, and when a wheezing Lena finished - last, she noted sourly - the guard was put through a series of ab workouts, push-ups, and  pliés .  _ “Pliés,”  _ Lena thought derisively as her thighs trembled through the moves,  _ are just fancy squats.  _ She knew she was whining, but this was the most physical activity she’d had to do all summer, plus it was different from her fencing exercises and it was  _ hard _ . The only way she made it through push-ups was by lowering her knees to the ground, and even then, her arms burnt and shook with the effort.  _ What the fuck have I done. What. The ever-loving.  _ Fuck.  _ Have I done. _

Just when Lena felt like her entire sweaty being was going to give up and expire on the floor, M’gann blew her whistle. The guard split into their flag, rifle, and saber groups, and ran through their fundamentals. While going through her warm-up of fifty drop-spins, to take her mind off of the burning in her muscles, Lena looked over and was a little surprised to see Sam leading the rifles in their warm-ups. She made a note to ask her about it during their break.

By the end of their practice with fundamentals, Lena’s back and shoulders were on fire. She was doing a little better than some of the other newbies: she hadn’t, for example, smacked herself in the face due to spinning on a diagonal instead of a vertical.  _ At least there’s that _ , she thought wryly. 

M’gann moved from the basics and into tosses. “These are some of the most fun elements of doing guard: tossing a flag, a rifle, a saber, are all ways that we highlight the show. As guard, we provide the visual element to the musical story that the rest of the band is performing, and tosses are a big part of that. Today, we’ll work on single tosses, as they’re the starting block for doubles, forty-fives, pop tosses, and a whole host of others.”

Tossing a flag, much to Lena’s chagrin, was difficult.The mechanics of it weren’t too hard to grasp: holding the flag at a diagonal, she pushed down with the hand  _ not _ close to the silk, and raised the other, which was a fist-length in the silk. She then opened the silk hand, and in theory, the flag would release into the air and spin once before she caught it.

Yeah, right.

Lena’s right wrist ached with effort, but she couldn’t manage to get that final flick in, the one that would send the flag skyward while spinning. Instead, the damn thing kept doing quarter-spins before falling, clanging as it hit the floor. Looking around her, Lena felt a burn of shame as she watched others in her cohort release passable single tosses. Her brows pulled together in a frown of consternation, and she stared down at the flag.

“I  _ will _ toss you, and you  _ will _ spin,” she gritted out at the flag from between clenched teeth. “I don’t care if it takes all damn day, it  _ will _ happen.” Breathing out harshly through her nose, Lena picked the flag up again and kept attempting the toss. When M’gann blew the whistle to signal the break, Lena had the flag in at least a half-spin.

_ I’ll take it, for now. _ She let out another exhale, trying to shake off the disappointment at not being able to master the toss right away. Rolling her flag up, she walked over to Sam and Winn.

“Hey, Li’l Lena!” Sam greeted cheerfully. “How’s tossing going?”

Lena groaned. “It’s horrendous. How can something so simple be so difficult?”

“It’s all in the wrist and the timing,” Winn chuckled. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it! It’s not instantaneous, trust me.”

“Everyone else seems to know how to do it,” Lena pointed out, indicating the other flag line members with her head. 

Winn waved a hand as if waving her rebuttal aside. “Pfft, they only know how because they signed up before the end of the school year and attended the three-day prep session in June.”

_ What.  _

Lena stared at him, agog. “There was a whole  _ preparation session _ before camp?”

“Well, yeah? A lot of the new flag crew are from the lower band, and are moving into the upper band. Part of being in the upper band is doing marching, and some people tend to make the mistaken assumption that color guard is the easy choice that gets them  _ out _ of marching.” Winn responded, shrugging. Lena inwardly cringed a little: that had definitely been some of  _ her _ logic before she joined. “So, what J’onn does is, he holds a three-day ‘tryout’ period, right before finals, where specifically lower band kids can learn the super basic stuff before band camp starts. You know, so they can like … try it out.”

Sam and Lena groaned. Lena’s groan came from her utter ignorance of the earlier prep session. She’d been engrossed with studying for her finals and AP tests, and had only paid attention to the early June deadline for the marching band sign-up. She could hear her mother chiding her now for neglecting to do her due diligence.

“Winn, that was  _ terrible. _ ” Sam put both her hands over her face, chuckling.

“Yeah, Kara would  _ not _ be proud of me,” he laughed, flushing with gentle embarrassment. At the mention of her roommate’s name, Lena startled; she’d almost forgotten that Winn was friends with her. In the pain of their sectional, she’d also done a pretty good job at forgetting how annoyed she was earlier in the morning, too. Winn caught her attention again, mistakenly thinking he was the reason for her eyes widening: “It’s okay if you didn’t go; the prep sessions are really only compulsory if you want to get into the upper band, so not a lot of people outside of us band kids know about it.”

“You’re in band?” Lena asked.

“Yep, first clarinet,” Winn bragged, puffing his chest out. “But I prefer to march as a guardie; it’s like, the only exercise I get,  _ plus _ I get to throw stuff and call it ‘art.’”

“Well,” Lena smiled, “I certainly can’t argue with that logic.”

Winn grinned back. “It’s what I tell myself when M’gann has us do burpees, and somehow it gets me through.” His smile softened. “Don’t worry about tossing; you’ll get it. If you have any questions, I’m happy to answer ‘em,  _ especially _ when it comes to yeeting flags.”

Lena nodded gratefully. “Thanks, Winn, I’ll definitely keep that in mind.”

Finished with his water, Winn turned and jog-shuffled back onto the floor. Lena moved to follow him, only to be stopped by Sam’s gentle touch on her shoulder.

“Lena, hey,” Sam said softly. “Do you want to practice the toss again, during our free time tonight?”

“Absolutely, yes,” Lena agreed gratefully. “I mean, if you’re willing to teach me. I know it eats your free time and you could use it doing other stuff … I mean, surely you’ve other friends than me here,” she chuckled self-deprecatingly. 

Sam squeezed Lena’s shoulder gently. “Hey, you’re my friend too, and friends look out for each other.” Sam gave her a reassuring smile. “Plus, you’re pretty fun to hang out with, so really, it’s a win for me.”

“Well, if you’re sure, then I’m in. I also wanted to ask you: you’re leading the rifle warm-ups?”

“Mhm,” Sam confirmed. “I’ve been section leader like, two years in a row, and that’s a part of it.”

“Ah, I see,” Lena responded as they made their way back onto the floor.

After the break, M’gann led them through dance warm-ups. The pliés were back, but this time in a deadly combination with the across-the-floor exercises from the other day. Lena’s legs were on fire, and she was almost certain that she’d found several new muscle groups that had definitely  _ not _ existed in her body before this day. That being said, as clumsy and awkward as she felt doing across-the-floors, she didn’t fall down this time. 

The rest of the sectional was dedicated to learning choreography, and the same burning ball of shame lodged in Lena’s throat as she fumbled her way through the routine. She was marginally better, thanks to practicing with Sam the night before, but that margin was … slim.

When the sectional broke for lunch, Lena was aching and biting the inside of her cheek to keep from crying with new frustration. She remembered Sam’s promise, then, and began keeping a mental list of what she wanted to work on in addition to that godforsaken toss. There had been improvement, therefore more practice would yield more improvement and maybe faster. The plan was a small comfort, and managed to dislodge the weight of not being perfect. 

X

After lunch were more sectionals, which meant more trying and failing to complete her toss. They ran through choreography again, and Lena found that, as opposed to earlier in the day, she was able to do the first 24 counts without having to think too long. The rest of the moves were still challenging, but she found satisfaction in the fact that at least she had that portion of the choreography down.

Once sectionals finished, Lena was instructed to grab her drill papers from her dorm, and to leave her flag in her room. Unlike last night, the room was occupied when she opened the door.

“Oh hey, roomie, how’s it going?” Kara Danvers greeted her from where she sat, cross-legged on her bed, flashing a dazzling smile which -  _ unfair, I am annoyed with you!  _ Her roommate’s long blonde hair was out of it’s ponytail from the morning, and cascaded downwards from under a snapback sitting backward on her head. A pair of sunglasses hung on the collar of her shirt: the sleeves had been torn from this one, too, leaving the same tanned and toned arms from yesterday on full display. Pages of sheet music with many pencil scrawls were arranged in front of her, and it seemed like she was in the middle of making notes.

“I’m well, yourself?” Lena managed to respond through a war of emotion: she was still peeved about the rude awakening this morning, but, well … Kara Danvers was also annoyingly good-looking.  _ Maybe “slight crush” is understating things …  _ Giving her head a very small shake to clear it, Lena walked over to her side of the room and placed her flag against the foot of her bed. Eyeing the bed, she decided that she deserved a couple minutes respite from being on her feet, and sat down on it. 

“Can’t complain! I really like the arrangement we’re playing, it really gives my section time to shine, but also I think will highlight a lot of the other parts of the marching band, you know?” Kara tapped her pencil on the music, before scribbling a note in its margins. 

“Sounds nice,” Lena responded neutrally, since she did not, in fact,  _ know _ . 

“Well, you’ll get to hear for yourself soon enough,” Kara said, “J’onn wants us to be playing and marching like, the day after tomorrow.” 

“I’ll be sure to give you my unbiased feedback,” Lena rolled her eyes, smiling. She sobered for a second: this was as good a time as any to discuss the alarm and plan a solution, or at least get the ball rolling on it. “Look, Kara, can I talk to you about your alarm?”

Kara’s brows furrowed together, and her pencil came to a rest. “My alarm?”

“It woke me up this morning,” Lena started, but before she could delve into her outlined plan for a solution, Kara was responding, shooting to her feet, pencil and music forgotten.

“Oh, shoot, Lena, I’m really sorry! I thought I’d left my phone on vibrate, that’s totally my bad.” 

The apology and the sincerity in Kara’s voice threw Lena, who was used to her complaints being turned back on her. It took her a moment to find her words.

“It’s alright, but would you please make sure it doesn’t happen again? Sleep is one of my most valued activities.”

“For sure! Yeah, I can make that happen for you, no problem!” Kara turned around to face the desk, reaching for her phone. With a couple of taps, she turned back and held the screen up to Lena, showing her the silenced alarm. “There! Sweet dreams, guaranteed.” She smiled at Lena, who was still processing the fact that she hadn’t had to arduously defend her request.

“Thanks, I appreciate it, Kara,” Lena said, moving to grab her band folder, a baseball cap, and aviator shades from her desk. 

“Hey, uhm, do you maybe want to walk to the field together? I mean, since you’re here, I’m here, we’re both … here…” Kara trailed off, rubbing the back of her neck

“Sure,” Lena replied, to both her and Kara’s slight surprise. “I mean, it’d be rather silly of us to just walk separately when we could go together.”

Kara beamed, and Lena melted, only just a little. “Well, then, what’re we waiting for? Let’s go!”

They headed out, walking side-by-side down the hallway and down the stairs, chatting lightly about the weather they’d had at camp so far and other safely mundane things. This was the most interaction that Lena had had with Kara since, well, since forever. Not that Lena hadn’t wanted to, in the past: on the contrary, she wanted nothing more than to talk to Kara for three years. She knew that she’d had a crush on her since her second year of high school, but with everything that had happened with her family, she’d convinced herself that friendship with someone so good and kind was a pipe dream; and if friendship was off the table, what hope would there be for any kind of romance?

Yet here Lena was, chatting amicably with Kara Danvers as they walked,  _ together _ , to drill practice. Being in such close proximity to the girl she admired,  _ and _ making conversation with her, was a little overwhelming. 

It wasn’t a bad kind of overwhelming, like when Lillian would leave her alone at work events and she’d have to graciously hold her own against older, chauvinistic businessmen; it was different, like that one time Lionel had taken her to the Air and Space Museum, and they’d listened to the Planets Suite by Holst in a dark room, walls and ceilings lit up with the stars, and she felt like she was falling into space.

Walking with Kara was instead something that brightened her senses, giving her an almost supernatural hyper-awareness of both herself and of the girl next to her.  _ How much eye contact is too much eye contact? How many questions should I ask her? How can I keep this conversation going? How cool should I be? I shouldn’t be too obvious, right?  _

“Lena?” Kara’s voice sounded concerned and farther away, and Lena belatedly realized that she’d stopped walking. “Are you okay?”

“Oh! Sorry! I got a little lost in my own brain for a second,” Lena laughed self-deprecatingly, and jogged to catch up to Kara, who was holding the door of the main foyer open.

“What got you lost in there?” Kara asked, giving her a curious smile. “If, of course, you feel okay with telling me! I don’t wanna pry or anything.”

“Oh, I uh …” Lena tried to find a good reason that wasn’t ‘I’m just freaking out because of my big, lesbian crush on you’  _ because honestly, who leads with that?  _ “I was just … thinking about how different this summer is.”

“Different how?”

“Well, for starters,” Lena indicated their surroundings as they walked across the campus, “I’m at band camp. That’s definitely something new.”

“Hopefully not a bad new?”

“We’ll see,” Lena joked. “It’s only the first day, after all.”

“Fair, and true! Well, as someone who’s definitely biased from four years of it, I can tell you that band camp is pretty great, and I think you’ll like it once we start getting into the good stuff.”

“The good stuff?” Lena inquired, tilting her head and looking at the blonde on her left.

“Oh yeah! When the drill comes together, and then we add the music on top of it all? It’s magic,” Kara breathed, and Lena smiled softly at her enthusiasm. Kara was genuinely excited about the show, and Lena would be lying if she said it didn’t rub off on her a little bit, that she wasn’t suddenly more excited to see what lay ahead.

“You’ve been doing this for four years?”

“Yep!” Kara stated proudly. “I started because I was nervous about going to high school, and Eliza—she’s my mom—” she clarified, “thought it would be a good way to make friends before school started, so that I’d have people to say hi to and help make the whole transition a bit easier.” 

Lena could definitely identify with the intimidation of starting a new school, but the idea of the gregarious, social Kara Danvers being nervous made her pause.  _ Why would someone as friendly and extroverted as Kara be uneasy about high school? _

“I’d never have pegged you for the nervous type,” she stated neutrally.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Luthor,” Kara replied, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly. Lena followed the movement of her arms before snapping her gaze back to Kara’s face. Luckily, Kara hadn’t seen her and was instead focused on the winding path down to the field. “Anyway, it definitely worked! I met James and Winn and Mike, and later I got to meet so many other really cool people. I worked my way up to section leader, played some really cool shows, and now I’ve got a really solid band family.”

“That’s … that’s really lovely, Kara,” Lena responded, quietly and honestly. 

“Yeah. I’m really lucky. So,” Kara said, switching the subject, “if you weren’t here, what would you be normally doing for the summer?”

Lena let out a slow breath. “Do you really want to know?”

“Of course! You mentioned how this summer’s ‘different,’ so I’m curious as to what ‘normal’ is.” Kara looked over at her as she spoke, and the attention brought a blush to Lena’s cheeks. 

“I, uhm … well, normally I’d be travelling, or helping out with the family business. Sometimes both,” Lena admitted, looking down at her sneakers as she spoke. She was aware that her summers were full of privilege and extravagance, and that her opportunities to intern with LuthorCorp’s R&D were nepotism at its finest; she tried to make the best use of them, to learn about the places she visited, as a result, and to enjoy herself.

“Cool! Where’ve you been? Have you been to Europe?” 

“Uhm, yeah. There are several LuthorCorp offices in Europe, so I’ve been.” She chuckled, recalling a memory. “One time last summer, Lex left me alone in the labs while he took care of an emergency in our Paris office. I was down there with the lab techs, tinkering with one of the scrapped projects for ages and completely lost track of time …” Lena trailed off, smiling fondly. “Anyway, yes, I’ve been to Europe.” 

“I had no idea there was an office in Paris! So, can you speak French?”

“ Bien sûr, je parle français,” Lena responded, showing off only a little as they approached the football field. She smiled as Kara’s eyebrows shot up. “My family makes frequent business trips; it’s only logical to learn the languages where our offices are located.”

“Oh wow,” Kara breathed. “Lena, that’s incredible! Wait,” her eyebrows scrunched together with an adorable confusion. “Hold up: ‘languages’? Like, plural?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Danvers,” Lena responded, echoing Kara’s words to her with a small smile. She was sure she imagined the blush that darkened Kara’s cheeks - it was, after all, an afternoon in the middle of summer.

X

When Kara and Lena reached the football field, they were both handed three different colored poker chips. Lena scrunched her face in confusion, tilting her head a fraction. “And what are we supposed to do with these?”

“Well, if we had any more, I’d say we try our hands at Texas Hold ‘Em, but sadly, three’s the limit.” Kara joked, shoving her chips into her pocket. “These are our ‘dots.’ They’re meant to help us learn our drill by marking where we stood, where we’re standing, and where we’re about to stand. That way, we can practice marching to our spots and adjust as needed.”

“Sounds like it takes a while.”

“Yeah, but we move through stuff surprisingly fast.”

“How do you remember it all?”

“I write down where I stand and where and when I move in my drill charts - that’s why we have them,” Kara held up her folder, shaking it gently. “It’s kind of our, like, schematics for movement during a show? Like how football players have plays, but for longer and musical.”

Lena laughed at the mental image her brain conjured, of the band members dressed in football gear, dancing around the field.  _ At least they’d not look like rejects from The Nutcracker. _

“That sounds like a really brilliant method, Kara.”

“Honestly, it’s my secret weapon,” Kara confided jokingly, in a low tone, moving closer to Lena and pretending to whisper. “I definitely recommend it, it makes memorizing the movements much easier.”

Lena let out a soft breath at both Kara’s proximity and her own confession: “I didn’t bring a pencil with me …”

“No worries, I’ve got extras.” Kara proffered a mechanical pencil, which Lena accepted with a nod of thanks. “You can hold onto it til camp’s over; if you get more, you can always leave it on my desk - you know where I sleep, after all,” she teased with twinkling eyes.

“Thank you, Kara,” Lena responded. “I will defend this pencil with my very life.” Lena cringed internally as the words left her mouth.  _ Too much? _

From the way Kara laughed, Lena’s statement was not too much.

“I’m glad to hear it. Thank you for walking with me, I really enjoyed talking with you,” Kara said, shoving her hands in her pockets and smiling shyly. 

Lena ducked her head, biting her lip before looking Kara in the eyes and grinning back. “The pleasure was all mine, thank you, Kara.” Blushing, Lena turned and walked over to where Sam was corralling the guard into their starting positions.

J’onzz took the stand - well, the scissor lift - and explained the purpose of the dots to the whole band before having them start placing the first three parts of the first movement. It was a long hour and a half, and the afternoon sun didn’t help. Lena found herself thankful for remembering to grab her hat and glasses, and extra thankful that Kara had brought that spray-on sunscreen. She was certain that without any of these things, she’d be burnt to a crisp and suffering heatstroke. As it was, she found herself chugging water like it was going out of style, and when J’onzz took longer to make tweaks to the drill, she followed the lead of other band members and sat down on the dry, crunchy grass, scribbling movement notes on her drill charts.  _ Kara’s got the right idea, there. _

Lena glanced over at Kara, who was standing and giving her section of trumpets instructions: instead of barking orders, she was running -  _ running _ \- to each of the ten members and helping them adjust and make their notes. It made Lena smile, to see that Kara’s sunny and helpful nature extended beyond her inner circle, and how much genuine joy she seemed to take in leading and supporting her section. The beauty within Kara seemed to radiate outward, catching Lena’s gaze. The sun caught in Kara’s hair like it was made from its rays, and each time she jogged over to a wayward trumpet to adjust their line, Lena could clearly see the ripple of muscle in her legs and arms. Lena found that she couldn’t, and didn’t quite want to, look away. She must have spaced out staring at her roommate, because when she looked around, everyone else was up and moving. Scrambling to her feet, Lena followed her notes to her next dot-spot.

Sam checked in on Lena during the slower moments, guiding her into forming the proper lines and shapes according to the drill. However, Lena was only able to pay attention half of the time: sometimes, Kara would let out a laugh, which drew her attention towards the human embodiment of sunshine. Once, she was so distracted by the way Kara laughed, Sam even had to wave her hand in front of Lena’s face.

“Helloooo, earth to Lena?”

“Wha-hm?” Lena ripped her gaze regretfully away from the Adonis she shared a room with. _Yeah, 'slight crush' is_ definitely _an understatement._

“Sorry, what were you saying? I was somewhere else.”

Sam turned to where her gaze had been, and when she turned back, there was a teasing, knowing glint in her eye. “Okay, Li’l Lena. Now that I’ve got your attention, can I please get you to move just a smidge to the right? It’ll help the curvature of the crescent we have to make. Yes, that’s perfect,” she praised as Lena adjusted. “Drop your dot there and make a note of it. Then you can go back to ogling Little Danvers over there."

Lena, caught out and off guard, spluttered uselessly. “I - what - you - I - she - just -”  _ Fuck. _

“Don’t worry, I’m just teasing,” Sam reassured, lightly tugging on the brim of Lena’s hat. “If you wanna talk about it, I’m here; if not, that’s totally your right, and none of my business.” And, as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn’t just accurately read Lena, clocked the source of  _ and _ called out her useless gayness, Sam turned and went to help the next guard member. Lena turned, raising her finger in argument, but lowered it. 

When the rehearsal ended, Lena was sweaty and hungry. 

“Food?” Sam asked, jogging over to her.

“Please,” Lena replied, nodding eagerly. 

X

After dinner, their band rehearsal was more of the same: placing down their marking dots and making their way steadily through the numerous sheets for the first part of the show. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, no longer tortuously cooking Lena’s fair skin. She still slathered sunscreen on her arms, legs, and face when they took water breaks, and kept her hat on. For all that she was protected against UV rays, and the air seemed to be cooling off as time went by, Lena still had a pressing problem:

Her feet were trying to secede from her body, and then murder her.  _ Traitors. _

It made sense: she’d been on them all day, for ten hours, and they were practically pulsing with aches that radiated up her shins and into her lower back. With every step she took on the field, from dot to dot, she could feel a fresh wave of throbbing ripple from her feet. The floor burns from her sectionals rubbed against her socks in her sneakers, and added an agonizing burning and itching. She just wanted to sit down and elevate her feet, preferably in a pool or perhaps an industrial freezer. 

When the evening practice finished, Lena wanted nothing more than to shower and collapse on her bed. In her dorm room, she eyed her neatly made blankets, and considered texting Sam to let her know that they wouldn’t be practicing tonight because, well,  _ ow. _ She grabbed her cell, and opened her messages. There were multiple photos from her groupchat with Veronica and Andrea: mostly of the two girls on a boat somewhere on the Mediterranean, flutes of champagne held daintily in a mock toast.

**_Ronnie:_ ** _ Hope you’re having fun with the geeks, Luthor! _

**_Andrea:_ ** _ We miss youuuuuu <3 _

Lena responded in their group chat, apologizing for being MIA.

**_Ronnie:_ ** _ Thank fuck, L, we thought you’d been sacrificed to the band gods or w/e _

**_Ronnie:_ ** _ Ready to give in?  _

**_Andrea:_ ** _ How’d the first day go? Are band nerds really nymphos? _

**_Lena:_ ** _ Ronnie, you wish. _

**_Lena:_ ** _ The first day was adequate. My feet are a little sore, but I’m crushing it. And no, not that I’ve seen haha _

**_Ronnie:_ ** _ “Adequate?” Luthor, this bet’s as good as mine. Call it now, and come join us!  _

**_Ronnie:_ ** _ Also, LAMEEE. You’d better not let those losers dull your edge _

For some reason, Veronica’s last comment didn’t sit quite right with Lena. She shook the feeling off, but was suddenly uninterested in interacting with Veronica any more today. Practicing with Sam sounded like a much better use of her time, despite her screaming muscles. She’d only known Sam for one day, and her new friend had been kinder and more helpful than Veronica had been through all the years Lena had known her. She did have to send a reply, though: Veronica had issued a challenge, and Lena had her pride, after all.

**_Lena:_ ** _ Oh, I always get what I want, V, and I want that egg. I’m seeing this shit through. _

After sending her response, she plugged her phone in to charge, grabbed her flag, and went to meet Sam.

X

“Fucking - goddamn - fucking GO!”

The exclamation tore through Lena’s clenched teeth as she tried, for the nth time, to do a single toss on her flag. Sam’s eyes widened.

“Whoa, hey, slow down on yourself,” Sam said as she put her own flag down. “Let’s take a second, put our feet in the grass, okay?”

Exhaling harshly, Lena nodded. She put her flag next to Sam’s, and slipped her sneakers and socks off. The grass blades tickled against her swollen and sensitive feet, but the cool earth underneath soothed the throbbing of her feet. 

Lena let herself plop down next to Sam, who was grabbing at grass with her toes. For a while, neither of them spoke.

“You seem a little on edge today, is everything okay?” Sam asked, meeting Lena’s gaze with her own. Lena pulled her knees closer to her chest and shifted her stare to her feet, nestled in the dark blades of the grass.

“I didn’t sleep well.”

“Yeah?”

“My roommate’s alarm went off at like, 5:45 this morning, and I couldn’t get back to sleep. On top of that, today’s been … it’s been a lot of new information, and I’m trying to process it all and just want to get this toss.” The words flowed from Lena like water, and she found herself surprised that she was being so honest with Sam.  _ Luthors never show weakness, Lena,  _ Lillian’s voice chided in her head.  _ So stop moaning and just get it right. _ She rested her chin on her knees. “I just feel like, if I can do this one toss, things will be a little easier. Logically, I know I can’t expect to be amazing at everything; but I also  _ have _ to be, if that makes sense?”

Sam nodded. “It does,” she responded, eyebrows knitting together. “I’ve been section leader for three years now, but when I first started, I had no idea what I was doing. But like, at the same time, I was the  _ section leader _ , you know? So I had to know what I was doing, even though I’d only just joined the color guard. It took a  _ lot _ for me to get to where I am, like with my skills and stuff, and it was very overwhelming - it still is, sometimes,” Sam admitted with a soft chuckle. “Do you want to know what helps, at least for me?”

Lena tilted her head, looking at her friend. “Yes, please,” she practically whispered.

“Go one day at a time. Set one goal for the day, and work from there.”

“Has anyone told you that you’d make a really good parent?”

“I have been told that on occasion, yes,” Sam responded with mirth. She slapped the ground suddenly, and stood. “Alright, it sounds like your one goal for today is to get the toss so let’s work on that for a little bit more. You’re doing really well with getting the rotation in your wrist, you just need to add more force to your push.” Sam paused before snapping her fingers. “Try visualizing the pole as … hm … as your roommate’s alarm!”

“I think I can do that,” Lena said, gripping her flag tighter at the thought of that infuriating noise.

“Do it, and then give that sucker the hardest push downwards, like you’re about to smash that alarm into five million little pieces.”

_ Yeah, I fucking wish,  _ Lena thought with a wry twist to her lips. She let Sam count her off, trying to imagine that her flag was the grinding, grating alarm which had so rudely interrupted her sleep earlier. When Sam hit the “8,” Lena pushed down with her left hand, the memory of her earlier annoyance shooting through her arm, and into the pole as it flew around. Her right hand twisted before she let go, hand and eye-level. The flag made a crackling snap as it ascended, rotating in one whole circle, coming down to land - however imperfectly - in Lena’s two hands.

She did it.

_ Holy fucking shit, I did it! _

“Lena! You did it!” Lena felt two arms around her, hugging. She let loose a disbelieving, overjoyed laugh that was tinged with exhaustion, and hugged Sam back.

“Thank you, Sam,” she said gratefully.

“Hey, you’re the one who made the toss, I only facilitated,” Sam laughed, stepping back and slinging an arm around Lena’s shoulder as the two walked back towards the dorms. “And with air like that, I’m excited for when you’re ready to start learning rifle!”

X

Kara wasn’t in the room when Lena returned.  _ Doubtless partying her face off in the woods,  _ Lena thought, raising an eyebrow.  _ How she’s able to get up that early is astounding. She must be an alien.  _ _ A really cute, fun, kind alien. _

Lena went through her nightly routine, but with a cold, cold shower to assuage the burning ache in her … well, her  _ everywhere _ . The icy water was heaven to her sore muscles, and she stayed in the shower until her feet had gone numb. Returning to her room, she applied fresh bandaids to her feet, along with a healthy swabbing of Neosporin. She wished in vain for ice packs, but settled for opening the window to let in the refreshing night air. Lying down, she thought about Sam’s words earlier.  _ One day at a time.  _

It was a different idea from the one her family had instilled in her, one that emphasized having the upper hand always, by any means necessary: if one was not ahead, then one was losing. She was well adapted to the Luthor philosophy, and so far it had yielded fruit in terms of her academics; however, the scientist within her knew that Sam’s advice was also valid. When she was tinkering with electronics at the mansion, she couldn’t rush through the process. She had to start at step one, and work her way forward from there.  _ Perhaps, at least for camp, I can try things Sam’s way - day by day. See where it leads. _

X

During the night, Lena was woken, briefly, by Kara returning. She didn’t fully wake; the first proper day of band camp had utterly exhausted her to the degree that even so much as opening her eyelids was akin to trying to bench press a truck. However, her mind was roused to a blurry, half-consciousness by the creak of the floor under Kara’s feet. Through a heavy-lidded gaze, she made out the silhouette of her roommate standing in the middle of the room. Eager to return to sleep, Lena’s eyes folded shut once more. A deep, smoky richness filled her nose, and briefly her mind brought her back to a memory faded by time:  _ a fire burning low during a cold evening; steaming mugs of hot chocolate and her mother’s voice lilting melodiously through a story that Lena knew by heart but loved hearing; curled into the soft warmth, under a quilt, held snug and safe.  _

The memory enfolded her, drawing her into deep sleep once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise it's not all just explanation of marching band stuff. thoughts?
> 
> one million and one thanks to Melui :D


End file.
